


A Cold Heart

by Lucy_Mariogld



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: A lotta angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Being Haunted, F/M, Panic Attacks, Social Anxiety, Some Romance, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves, possible PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy_Mariogld/pseuds/Lucy_Mariogld
Summary: After the tragic and strange events in his old base with his old team, the RED Sniper must continue on.On a snowy November night, everything is fine until a spell backfires causing Sniper being cursed to become a monster. While everyone seems to have their own dangerous problems and with time running short, Sniper must battle his demons and his past.(A Re-write of an old story from 2017)
Kudos: 3





	A Cold Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A/N This has been sitting in my folders for quite a long time. It's about time I publish it.

**\- Chapter 1 - Sparks -**

* * *

The middle-aged man stared at the lighter in his co-worker’s gloved hand, a painful thought running through his brain as the person flicked the lighter on and off. He tried to avoid it but his brain had other plans. Suddenly all the man could see was flames, sparks flying as the timber around him crumbled.

He wasn’t prepared for a tidal wave of memories.

The man gripped onto the bench where he sat, screwing his eyes closed. Insane laughter filled his ears as his lungs threatened to fail from the amount false of smoke his body had inhaled. His breathing quickened as he heard her chuckle, her  _ voice _ , pulling him closer to his- ”Yo Snipes? You alright?” A voice said, snapping him from his nightmarish thoughts. He jolted his gaze up, the concerned looks of his co-workers, his teammates, were evident.

“I’m… fine.” Sniper breathed out, awkwardly sitting there as his heart rate slowed and his breathing became normal once more. The young man who had spoken prior sat down, lifting his foot up to tie his dangling shoelace. 

“Medic thinks you’ve gone a bit… insane.” He whispered into Sniper’s ear. That statement alone was ironic really. Sniper’s gaze went over to the man known as Medic who was currently talking to his bird, the feathered creature already splattered with blood despite the day's festivities having yet to start. He was the most insane one here other than the pyromaniac that sat nearby. Sniper told himself to not glance in that man’s direction. If he was a man to begin with.

Pyro was the one with the lighter. There was a heavy thump as another person sat on Sniper’s right, the young man from before still rambling in his ear despite the fact the older man had already tuned him out. He just ignored them and their stares, absent-mindedly glancing up at the clock on the wall as the seconds ticked by.

Then, after what felt like decades of waiting, a voice cracked through the old speakers above the group, signify the beginning of the workday. With that, the group shuffled out, a blizzard of snowflakes greeting them as they headed out. 

Sniper was the last one to step out into the crisp winter environment, the cold already nipping at the fingers of his gloves. He trudged through the ankle-high snow as he rushed towards his post, a flurry of snow falling around him.

The base was called Coldfront for a reason. 

The man climbed up a small set of stairs, a small cabin opening up to another building and a large expanse. Snow fell from the sky as Sniper let loose a sniffle, wiping his nose as he clamoured up a hill. He knelt on the wooden bridge, aiming at the exposed area that was the control point. A few enemies appeared around a barrier of rocks and sheet metal, Sniper spotting his own counterpart in the process. 

Scout burled past, whooping high and loud as he leapt of a rock and shot an enemy Demoman in the side as the older man hollered in rage. He chased after the younger man, dividing the enemy's defence. 

Sniper flicked his wrist, gripping tightly on his rifle as he held his breath.

Slowly, he aimed at the exposed skull of the enemy Medic, the younger man too distracted to realize his surroundings. He took a deep breath in, steadying himself. With a loud crackle, he fired his rifle. The Medic fell to the ground instantly, crimson liquid mixing and staining his white lab coat and blue latex gloves.

He released the breath he had been holding, flicking a small pocket knife out and carving a thin, barely noticeable, line into his rifle.

Sniper rubbed his eyes, a sudden and unwanted chill shock him. Sniper shrugged it off as just another side effect of being outside. He had already been outside for ten minutes. Not to mention he didn't even have the correct clothing on anyway.

The lanky man adjusted his aviators, the orange glass providing good resistance against the brightness of the snow. The speakers blurred out something he could only just hear. He returned to his scope, glancing down the eyepiece as he watched the enemy team and looked for an opening to shoot.

His opportunity came three minutes later when the enemy Sniper took a potshot at him. He responded with a shift head-shot. He added another mark to his rifle. 

As the match progressed, more marks scarred his rifle, mixing with the hundreds of others from the past years working here. His hands had become red with the bitter cold, snow piling on his shoulders as he barely moved from his nest. He glanced away from the chokepoint for a second, watching a thin trail of smoke snaking through the air. 

A bitter taste filled his mouth as he stared off into the distance, more memories flooding back. Sniper felt his throat tighten as he moved away, sitting against the wooden barrier. A sob threatened to break through as he shut his eyes closed. 

“You’re not there. There was nothing you could do.  _ It’s not your fault _ .” He muttered to himself, taking a deep breath in. 

The speakers blared again as the sun peaked over the horizon, the afternoon light glinting off of the snow. Footsteps crunched on the snow outside. Sniper felt a hand over his shoulders. Letting out a gasp, he opened his eyes and was surprised to find Scout standing there, recoiling slightly. The young man’s gaze darted away before he opened his mouth. 

“Uh, the match is over, Snipes.”

“Oh...” Sniper found himself mumbling. “Is it?” 

Scout nodded, pointing towards the now abandoned control point. “Yeah, just now. We won again!” A smile appeared on the runner’s face as he beamed confidence.

“Did we? I didn’t notice.” He glumly replied.

“Are you alright, Sniper?” Scout’s voice grew more concerned. “I mean, it’s pretty hard not ta notice that ya k-kinda…” He was wringing his hands together. “ _ Distracted _ ?”

“I’m fine,” The older man instantly said, rising to his feet. 

“You’ll tell me if somethin’ is wrong, _right_?” 

Sniper opened his mouth before closing it, stumbling to find the right words to say. Scout diverted his gaze again. The mercenary felt his stomach dropping as he saw Scout edge towards the entryway.  “I’ll-I’ll be in the base. I’ll see you at dinner then.”


End file.
